


Before the Red Rooster Crows

by Caffinatedcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Sastiel Big Bang 2018, Slow Burn, the apocalypse nobody talks about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffinatedcastiel/pseuds/Caffinatedcastiel
Summary: As the search for Kelly hits a dead-end, Castiel and the Winchesters opt to investigate some nearby demon signs in the meantime. The unexpected appearance of a pissed pagan god elevates the stakes and Sam, Dean, and Cas are thrown into the spotlight of an unexpected war. Apocalypse 3.0 anyone?





	1. Sun's Day (Part 1)

From the door to the southernmost wall, the bunker was approximately 856 steps if moving in a direct path. If using the stairs, add an additional 20.

The width of the bunker, spanning from the garages to the bedrooms, was approximately 954 steps. The distance from the library to Dean’s room was 127 steps, and from the library to Sam’s was 92. The kitchen was closer to the living quarters than the library, but not by much, with only a difference of 45 steps. The war room was only 25 steps further.

However, steps were a subjective unit of measurement. Castiel knew as much, one could cover the same distance in fewer steps if running, and could potentially move in no steps at all if dragging one’s self across the ground (a method he had yet to measure with yet). However, without his wings, distance was now a concern that he needed to consider. He could no longer appear where he was needed, right when he was needed. The time it took to move from one place to another had to be accounted for, thus should be documented. He couldn’t ignore such a concept anymore. Even 20 steps could be the difference between losing everything and keeping his promises.

Twenty steps. He had counted.

Over and over in the quiet nights of the bunker. From the bottom to the stairs, to the entrance of the library. The length of the war room. Theoretically, it was a distance that could have been spanned in seconds, if he had known, if only he had known then-

“Cas? What are you doing by the door?”

Sam’s groggy voice was quiet but still managed to bounce off the walls of the empty room, reaching Cas twice as it echoed. He blinked, tapping his fingers against the black metal of the stair’s railing as his mind reacquainted himself with the present. Turning, he let himself look at Sam with a neutral expression, noting that he was standing in the short (4 steps) hallway that connected the library to the war room. He rolled his shoulders back as if he were trying to let the weight of his unease slip from his shoulders, only to find its stubborn claws knit deep into the muscle tissue.

“I stepped outside for a moment. It’s a clear night, so I figured I would enjoy the sky for a few minutes.” Cas lied. He didn’t often look to the sky much anymore. It once brought him comfort to remember how profoundly large his father’s universe was, and how small he, and every other living creature was, and how little they were truly experiencing in the expanse of the unknown. He had tried once again a few months back and caught sight of comets millions of miles away that only brought tragedy and deceit to mind. The sky didn’t seem to be much a comfort afterward. Sometimes the unknown should stay that way.

“Oh wow… that’s… you do realize it's 3 AM, right Cas?” Sam laughed and the corner of his mouth upturning into an amused partial smile, looking at Cas with familiarity in his gaze, tinted with gentle concern and fondness. He had walked up to the table that sat between them, pulling out a chair and settling into it, tilting his head to keep his gaze trained up at the angel ten feet away from him.

“Yes Sam, I am aware. What exactly do you think I do when the two of you sleep? I have no research to do, or tasks to complete as I normally would take these hours to complete.” Cas responded, turning completely to face the hunter, his hand still resting on the curved corner of the railing.

“So you just… wander? You know you are free to sit down and relax, read a book. Watch some Netflix.” Sam’s voice was soft. It didn’t probe for an answer or explanation for Castiel’s behavior, helping the angel feel at ease. Sam was somehow able to put off a calming presence towards most people, including himself. It was part of the reason he had once taken up watching television in Sam’s room in the first place. He could sit without interruption, with the only questions relating to whatever Cas had on screen.

Cas’s gaze darted to the ground, focused on a chip in the stone flooring, the lighter grey attracting his eye as his mind recalled his time in the bunker after recovering from Rowena’s curse, letting his mind be content with the idle plots and controlled conflicts that he was presented with on screen. It had been an escape, tempting him away from focusing on the two things in his life that had truly mattered.

“I have had… enough of the Netflix.” Cas explained, letting his gaze travel upwards, meeting Sam’s eyes, noting that the concern had overcome the fondness, but couldn’t grasp why the shift had occurred. He offered the hunter a smile, hoping to win over one of Sam’s own to no avail. Perhaps he would have to step into some different territory to shift the hunter’s mood once more, moving from defense to offense.

“What are you doing this early Sam? I don’t sleep, but it is important for you to at least grab a few hours. Do you need any aid?” It was not an uncommon question, Cas had often helped the brothers rest now that he had his grace back. Dean was often more reluctant, but with Sam, all Cas had to do was ask. Granted, there were times that the younger Winchester was opposed to the idea and needed persuasion to go off to sleep, and times he refused the idea at all, but Cas always kept the option open. Both brothers needed to have nights they knew that they would sleep soundly, uninterrupted by dreams. Cas preferred it to their alternative forms of fading into oblivion. And the Winchesters certainly had saved on alcohol once he had started.

“No, I’m fine. Really Cas, I just… woke up too soon and figured I’d get a head start. We haven’t been on a case in ages. And with no leads on Kelly, I think we need to do something in the meantime. I already noticed Dean is getting stir-crazy, and apparently, you are too. It’s only a matter of time before I join in.” Sam replied, waving Cas off as he pulled his laptop close, disrupting a pile of printouts that had been stacked nearby.

“Are you sure that is wise Sam? It’s best to keep on the trail while she could still be around.” Cas’s voice was uncertain, matching the conflict he felt at moving onto a different course of action, even after a lengthy period of finding nothing. Surely even a lack of a trail was better than switching to a completely new path.

“Cas, it’s been over a month. She could be anywhere right now. I know you did your best, but fresh eyes, fresh minds. We aren’t going to find anything looking at the same information for days on end.” Sam reasoned, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers on the table with his right hand.

“Yes… of course,” Cas muttered, letting his grip fall away from the railing, his arm settling by his side. His feet stayed in place as a tight feeling constrained his chest at Sam’s words. While having the Winchesters back was a victory, he still could not deny he had done wrong by losing Kelly Klein and her unborn child. It was his responsibility to find her, but it was also his responsibility to assist Sam and Dean where he was able. If that happened to be at a salt-n-burn or any other hunt, so be it. He would be by their side. Never more than 20 steps away.

“Hey, what’s with the party?”

Dean’s groggy voice managed to pull Cas fully to the present, looking over at the robed hunter with a sense of relief. The older hunter was always able to fill the silence, giving Castiel more time to assess his own words and to reflect on the expressions and words of the two brothers to gauge their emotions and thoughts on whatever was going on. Even after 8 years human emotions sometimes took some extra thought to piece together.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d hit the pavement. See if there is anything odd going on that we could look into.” Sam explained with a coy shrug, eyes shifting to his hands, which were now clasped and sitting against the table’s edge. Cas was surprised to hear a hint of frustration in Sam’s tone. Were the brothers upset with each other over something?

Dean smiled. “Finally, I feel like we have been sitting still for too long. You come up with anything?” he asked, cracking his knuckles as he moved to stand closer to his brother.

Cas slipped away, making his way to the kitchen. The brothers would most likely be needing coffee at this hour, regardless of how awake either of them said they were. He had discovered it was often the best plan to have some available while they looked, and found the process of doing anything while they browsed to feel better than watching them jump from site to site. It was something he could marvel, the two worked like a well-oiled machine, like angels that had trained side by side for millennia. But it was frustrating to be unable to work with that machine without feeling like he was slowing the process. So this was a better alternative, to help in even the most menial of tasks.

As he waited for the machine to finish brewing, Sam stepped in and gave Cas an appreciative smile, pulling three glasses from the cupboard nearest to the sink. He set them down on the counter, leaning against its edge and tapping his fingers against the surface. His eyes were darting from object to object, unable to stay focused on anything in the room for more than a few seconds. Cas was able to work out the pattern, noting that after every few objects Sam’s gaze would settle upon himself.

“Anything on your mind?” He asked, regarding the hunter with curiosity. It was evident that Sam had something to say, having followed him this far.

Sam gripped the counter, his eyes finally settling on their intended target as he was caught in the act. “Nothing. I guess I’m just wondering how you are doing is all. I mean, after Ishim and Ramiel, a lot has been going on, you know?”

“I’m fine Sam. All the damage from Michael’s spear was nullified. You don’t need to worry. But I am curious as to what brought up such a question. May I ask?”

Sam choked out a laugh. “I need a reason to ask my friend how he’s doing?”

“As a Winchester, yes. You two tend to only address emotions when prompted from an outside force.” Cas said matter-of-factly, cocking an eyebrow in Sam’s direction, pulling the coffee pot off its hot plate as the machine sputtered to a stop.

“Wow,” Sam mused, sounding off-put by the angel’s analysis as he returned to tapping his fingers, “You caught me. I didn’t really… wake up just to research cases. I’ve been having dreams lately. Some are vague, and I don’t remember much besides lightning and the ground rumbling. But last night I dreamed Crowley never figured out how to disarm the lance, and well… yeah. It wasn’t the highlight of my night. I just, it’s stupid. I just got caught up in how fucked we’d be if we actually lost you. We do love you man, so even the thought of that actually happening kept me awake.” Sam explained, looking a bit uncomfortable as he muddled through his explanation.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the dreams? I could have assisted you.” Cas said with a slight frown as he finished pouring the coffee into the mugs, putting the pot back in its place.

“I didn’t see the point in mentioning it after it had already woken me up. After that, the problem can’t really be prevented.” Sam replied as he pushed away from the counter, picking up two of the mugs. Cas picked up the third, cupping it in both hands. The heat helped to center him in his vessel, an anchor to his physical form.

“Still. I would like it if you told me if these dreams continue to disturb you. We may not be able to prevent all of them, but if you allow me to help you sleep, you know I am able to keep your slumber dream-free.” Cas stated, making his way out of the kitchen and back towards the war room, hearing Sam’s sock-muffled footsteps behind him, turning his head back at an angle to keep engaged in the conversation if the other chose to answer.

“I’ll consider it.” The answer was soft but carried a definitive quality, as if Sam had already made up his mind on the matter.

Cas made his way back to the table, settling down in the seat to the left of Sam, across from Dean, prompting the older hunter to look up from his laptop.

“Since when did it take two people to make coffee?” he muttered, reaching out and taking the mug offered to him by Sam as the other settled back into his own seat.

“Don’t worry about it. Find anything?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair, taking a sip from his mug to hide his expression. Cas trained his gaze on Dean through the steam rising from his mug, sitting upright on the edge of his seat, curious to see if his friend had made any progress.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Dean replied in a light-hearted tone, offering Sam a tired smirk as he took a drink of his coffee, humming softly. “Possibility of a black dog in Southern Colorado, what looks like something that could be a poltergeist in Ohio, and some nasty looking demon activity in Nevada.”

“Demons? I would think Crowley would be less… obvious about his activities.” Cas interjected, settling his elbows on the table. Dean shrugged, looking back down at the computer screen.

  
“I don’t know man, it looks pretty off to me. There have been odd storms popping up all across the state that people haven’t been able to explain through natural means. Altogether, there has been about five feet of rainfall, and it says here that every storm is pretty violent for the areas. No cattle mutilations or crop failures, but we’ve done more on less.” Dean stated, twisting the computer screen around for Sam to see. Sam leaned forwards, scrolling and clicking through the pages as Cas watched.

“Well, it certainly is odd. Even if it isn’t demons, I would say that it’s worth checking out.” Sam concluded, pushing himself out of his chair. He stretched his arms above his head, twisting from side to side to wake himself up, looking back down at Dean.

“Let’s get to work.”

*****

Packing for the trip had been relatively painless. Cas sat in the war room, watching the Winchesters cart out their duffles, with Dean making half-hearted wisecracks about being up so early. Cas was only glad that the eldest brother had gotten out of bed of his own volition. He had learned from Sam early in his interactions with the brothers that waking Dean up was a danger in of itself.

He could still recall the wording Sam had chosen. Like waking up a bear. Except a bear would be less deadly. At least if you got away from a bear it couldn’t shoot you from long distance. The thought pulled the ghost of a smile to his face. Most of the fine details he had learned about the brothers were learned from the other. He had learned of Sam’s serial killer fascination while drinking with Dean as the other went off about the oddity, looking for someone to reaffirm that is was a strange hobby. He discovered Dean’s taste in adult media through a similar, yet inverted circumstance. Shampoo choice, social cues, favorite memories, and adventures… all things he had learned from the other’s soulmate. Cas hoped that he could find someone in the world that he could know as intimately. The thought was coming up at a frequent rate after his chance encounter with Mary one night as he had been charting out the steps in the bunker.

_When did you feel like you fit? Like you belonged here?_

He should have lied. Told Mary he felt like family around the Winchesters. There were times he did. He felt like he was useful, and was doing good by the brothers. He helped people and killed things, which included him in the family business equation. But there were other times he felt like the title didn’t apply. An odd sense of longing would overtake him when with the brothers. One he couldn’t yet explain, even to himself. Maybe he could find the answer in another. A soulmate. He just hoped that having a soul wasn’t a prerequisite. That could pose an issue.

“Ready to go Cas?” Dean’s gruff voice cut through his thoughts, pulling Cas’s eyes up to meet the hunter’s. He pushed himself out of his chair, straightening out the front of his trenchcoat. He nodded at Dean, sliding his hands into his pockets. Dean nodded back and flashed a thumbs up as he slung his duffle bag over one shoulder.

Cas followed after the other, looking over his shoulder to watch Sam slide the laptop into his duffle before taking up the rear. He gave Cas a smile as their eyes met, adjusting his duffle to redistribute the weight on his shoulder. Cas turned forwards, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. He hoped this would be a hunt he could be helpful with, a hunt that he felt like he belonged on. Anything to actually earn a smile, or a hug if he allowed himself to be wistful. Being on Earth in a vessel for such an extended period of time heightened his desire for physical touch or positive gestures. During the apocalypse, he saw such a need to be a weakness, and for a few years afterward regarded the feeling with confusion. Never before had he actually started to crave it, though it was not something he would admit to out loud. Instead, he would silently celebrate his successes and internalize his failures to discover how to improve in the future.

He slid into the backseat of the Impala, sitting dead in the center. It was the most practical location to talk if needed, being able to see the brother’s faces, at least partially, in the rearview mirror. To his surprise, he heard the door to his right open once more. Sam slid in with a grunt and Cas moved to allow him more room. He offered the hunter a confused look, squinting his eyes and tilting his head to the side. Sam offered a shrug, gesturing to the trunk where Dean was stashing their bags.

“Dude, I’m not chancing him while he’s still groggy. It’s safer to be a backseat driver while you are actually in the back seat sometimes. He can’t reach me that easily back here.” Sam explained, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided Cas’s gaze. Cas didn’t quite understand the logic behind Sam’s reason. He had driven with Dean on countless occasions in the early morning in the front seat. But he also couldn’t verify that Sam hadn’t ever chosen the backseat willingly before now. While he had started driving with the brothers on occasion, more often than not the brothers often drove alone.

“I won’t throw you to the bears.” He responded, giving Sam a knowing nod. Sam’s expression was neutral at the response for a few moments until the reference clicked. He chuckled, patting Cas on the shoulder and shaking his head in gentle amusement. The driver side door opened and Cas caught the confused flicker in the hunter’s eyes. It was quick to disappear, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. He caught a few grumbled words pass through Dean’s lips (this morning is already too damn weird), but the hunter didn’t directly address the situation as he turned on the engine and pulled out of the bunker’s garage.


	2. Sun's Day (Part 2)

Traveling from Kansas to Nevada took just under 17 hours, with a brief stop in Colorado to fuel up and give the brothers a chance to eat, stretch, and breathe for a few moments. The drive had reminded Sam a great deal of his childhood, sitting in the back seat and watching states fly by at speeds that he could tell were much higher than the speed limit without even seeing the speedometer. It was a long, tedious drive… but having company in the backseat made everything seem bearable. Sam still wasn’t sure what spurred him to sit in the back by choice. Hell, he had spent most of his life rebelling the idea of having to sit in the back and would defend his right to sit shotgun whenever another person drove in the Impala with him and his brother. But something had drawn him to the wish to spend more time with Castiel.

After almost losing the angel, he kept seeing things he would miss if Castiel left their lives. The angel’s stubborn faith, his odd humor, his questions about humanity and primetime television. Sure, Cas was often in and out of the bunker for one reason or another, but he always came back. He had become a constant in their trainwreck of a life. All their friends, new and old, kept ending up as ashes on a pyre built far too soon. But Cas always came back. Against all odds, Sam knew he could count on that one fact. But that faith had been shaken after the angel had been stabbed and had been decaying at such a slow pace, where all he could do was watch and wait. Listen to Cas’s dying words, hearing that he loved them and were the best part of his life.

How did he deserve to be the best part of an angel’s life?

After everything he had done… surely he had to earn that. He had to do so much more. But for now, all he could do was hope that spending time with Cas and trying to be the person the angel saw could be enough.

So for 17 hours, he taught Castiel the games that he used to keep himself occupied when he was a child: eye-spy, the alphabet game, the license plate game, racing raindrops when they passed through a short storm in Utah. Cas would smile and play along, though Sam could see the confusion reflecting in his blue irises. His gaze was as it always had been, bright and ageless, filled with wisdom and a child’s curiosity. Sam wished he could explain his intentions to the other. But as he couldn’t understand them himself, what could he possibly say? Nothing that Dean wouldn’t consider a chick flick moment, and with his brother within hearing distance it was best to let it be.

“Alright, are you two done with your slumber party games? I was honestly betting on one of you two bringing up braiding Sam’s hair at some point.” Dean muttered once they arrived at the motel. Sam could see his brother’s eyes reflected in the rearview mirror, frowning at how tired the other looked. He would have suggested he drive at some point, but already knew Dean would have rejected the idea. Regardless, it was also best to let the older Winchester tire himself out driving in order to get him to sleep it off faster. Sam would never say it out loud, but he had developed strategies over time to get Dean to do what was best for himself while letting Dean think he was calling the shots. Sure, it was a little backhanded, but it was effective and that was all that mattered. Dean would never listen to him if he voiced his concerns about the other’s health and habits, so he had to adapt.

He opened his door and stretched as soon as he stepped out of the car, unfolding his limbs and feeling the outdoor air fill his lungs. He heard the trunk pop open and went to grab their bags, seeing Cas step out of the car and look over their surroundings.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have just driven over to Vegas and come back in the morning. There is nothing to do in Northern Nevada. It’s basically Utah with looser liquor laws.” Dean reflected, looking between Sam and Cas with a groggy expression. Sam could see that he was still trying to figure out what had been going on between the two of them. His gaze had often fallen back on the both of them in the back seat throughout the drive and Sam could feel the other’s curiosity heavy on the air, even without a verbal inquiry. That was one benefit of his brother’s reluctance to talk about the elephant in the room. Sam wasn’t sure he could give Dean a solid answer even if he had asked.

“We can give Vegas a visit once we are done here. There is no reason to go there and come back when we are here already.” Sam reasoned, carting their bags towards the motel with a huff and a roll of his eyes.

“Sam, there is always a reason to go to Vegas. Sin City, man. That’s worth the drive alone.” Dean countered as he passed the other, heading towards the motel’s office to check in. Cas followed the older hunter for a few feet, stopping as he reached Sam’s side. Sam’s gaze traveled to the angel’s shadow, seeing it grow longer and thinner as the sun set behind the mountains. He followed the shadow’s path across the nearly empty parking lot, seeing where the pavement cut off and the desert began. There was little else to observe about their scenery, with only a few sagebrush bushes dotting the landscape and another range of mountains in the distance providing a jagged cut off for the horizon.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” Cas asked, directing Sam’s attention back toward the angel and away from their surroundings.

“What, the desert? There isn’t much out there to call beautiful Cas,” he commented, letting his eyes scan the empty, stretching landscape. “I suppose the sunset is nice over the mountains.”

“That is not what I mean. I think… the fact that life can thrive in such an unforgiving climate is beautiful. The flora and fauna can endure with such little resources while facing harsh circumstances. It reminds me of certain people I know.” Cas said, looking up at Sam with a fixated expression. Sam swallowed thickly, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. He was saved by the sound of the office door opening and Dean making his way back over. His brother was all smiles, making Sam slightly suspicious. He had no doubt that Dean had found himself a piece of trouble to escape to when he thought Sam was asleep.

“You ready fellas?” He asked, handing Sam a key. “Room 15. I’ll meet you there.”

“Dean… really?” Sam asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked his brother over. He pressed his eyebrows together and offered the other a pointed frown.

“What? The girl at the front desk was talking about the storms. I’m sure I could learn a thing or two. Come on Sammy, you have your version of research and I have mine.” Dean chuckled, patting Sam on the shoulder.

“Fine. Just, fine. Don’t wake me up when you come stumbling in at 2 am. And be sure you get some sleep. I don’t need my backup being too out of it to watch my back.” Sam sighed, crossing his arms and biting the inside of his cheek.

“Hey, you still have Cas. So pull the stick out of your ass, you got me?” Dean threw over his shoulder, making his way back to the front office.

“Come on Sam, we should go back to the room. You did not sleep throughout the drive.” Cas cut in, putting his hand on Sam’s arm. Sam looked back at Cas, forcing a smile as he turned towards the rooms and scanning over the numbers until he caught sight of a brass 15 reflecting in the waning sun.

“You're right. I might try to do some research before I try to sleep though. We are still only riding on the fact there have been demonic omens in the area. It would be good to see if there have been any disappearances or deaths related to everything. It would give us a better idea of where to start tomorrow.” Sam reasoned, walking towards their room. He unlocked the door and deposited the duffle bags near the beds. He turned as Cas shut the door behind him, watching the angel move to sit at the small table close to the window and set up Sam’s laptop.

Sam settled into the chair across from the angel, scooting the chair around to get close enough to see the computer’s screen. He put his elbow on the table’s edge, watching as Cas pulled up police archives and the obituaries of local papers. It was amazing how fast that the angel had adapted to the hunter’s life, falling into their methods and strategies. Sure, he still was rough around the edges when it came to executing plans, but he had research down. He had gotten exponentially better during his time in the bunker while recovering from Rowena’s spell, and even before that when they had teamed up to hunt down Crowley and Dean when his brother had been a demon.  
They worked side-by-side for a few hours, with Sam chiming in a few times to help, with his comments growing fewer and further in between as time went on.

Cas’s voice was soothing to listen to as he went over some things he was discovering, which admittedly was a lot of nothing. What they did find didn’t seem to connect to the storms or other demonic signs, but nothing ruled out demonic foul play either. With nothing to push their research forward, Sam could feel his mind drift away, riding on the soft graveling of Cas’s voice. With each blink, the laptop screen grew less focused and harder to read until Sam found himself just staring at a blur of bright light. Nothing stopped him when he finally drifted off, back into images of lightning and the feeling of the ground falling away from his feet.

*****

Sam’s knees hit the ground, causing him to roll in order to lessen the impact. His breathing passed through his lips at a rapid rate, clouds of moisture expelling into the chilled air. He wasn’t sure why he had been running, or how he had fallen. He was only certain that he didn’t want the storm brewing across the horizon to catch up with him. Pushing himself back to his feet, he cast his line of sight back at the storm, feeling the sharp claws of apprehension rip at his core. The sight of lightning snapping through space filled him with nervous energy and the instinct to run. But how long could a man run from thunder and lightning? It didn’t seem feasible. But here he was.

Another tremor pulled him back to his knees and he scrambled to find something to hold on to. He had found that waiting the quakes out while being close to the ground was the best course of action. Walking was near impossible without the risk of falling or being thrown into something. He pulled himself across the ground, keeping his eyes closed in an effort to keep calm and ignore the earth cracking and growing increasingly unstable. He felt like he was making good progress, stopping only when his hand came into contact with a leather shoe.

His eyes snapped open quickly, scanning from the shoe up to a pair of curious blue eyes gazing down at him. A disbelieving laugh passed through his lips as he patted the angel’s leg with his dirt-caked hand. The tremors slowed to a stop and Cas reached down, offering Sam a hand to help him up. Sam took his hand and groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, looking down at his clothes and brushing off the dust and debris that stubbornly clung to his clothes.

“Cas, what the hell are you doing in here man? Not that I don’t appreciate the company, but this is a new one for us,” he asked, looking down at Castiel. He felt a little strange with the angel inside his head. Dean had spoken of Cas walking through his dreams back before the apocalypse, but this was a first for the two of them.

“You were… distressed. You fell asleep at the table, and I didn’t wish to disturb you. But then you began to dream and I couldn’t sit idle while I had the potential to help. If I could not prevent this dream, I still wish to ease your discomfort.” Cas explained, looking around the sparse trees and damaged earth. “You spoke of such events happening in prior dreams, did you not?”

“Yeah actually. I’ve had this one a few times before. I’d estimate around five or six times. But if you are asking me if these are visions I’d doubt it. Those have a different feel. I don’t know how to explain it, but they are much heavier on the mind.” Sam responded, crossing his arms and turning away. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch down into a frown. While these didn’t feel like a typical vision, there could be reasoning behind the fact this scenario was recurring. It would be hard to chalk this up to coincidence in their line of work.

The ground shifted again without warning, sending Sam tumbling into Castiel. His hand shot out to grip at the angel’s coat as his knees bent uncomfortably to make an attempt to stabilize himself. Cas leaned into the contact, bracing himself to keep from being knocked over. His arm wrapped around Sam’s back, pulling the hunter tighter to keep him close. They stayed like that, locked together in a tense embrace as they waited for the shaking to stop. This time, Sam felt okay staying still. Even if the storm caught up with them, he wouldn’t be alone. As the movement beneath their feet slowed to a halt, Sam coughed and stepped away from Cas. He laughed softly and brushed his hair away from his face, giving the other a once over.

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t expecting another quake so soon. But thank you for stopping my fall,” he said, patting Cas’s shoulder and offering him a half-smile.

“It was no issue. But we really should discover the source of your dreams Sam. What were you running from when I first arrived?” Cas asked, jumping straight back into business without a pause. Not as if that was much of a surprise. Once Castiel had his mind set on something, pulling him away from the scent was always difficult. He was stubborn as a Winchester, through and through.

“The storm. I don’t know why. It’s never reached me before. But I get a sick and uneasy feeling whenever it gets close.” Sam explained, looking over at the horizon. The clouds had gotten closer, spanning from the peaks of the mountains to the utmost branches of trees Sam had passed through not too long ago. It could take mere minutes for the mass of ominous energy to reach them. But if they did, Sam felt like he had an edge over every other dream before. Cas was a calming presence. He was logical, motive-driven and quick-witted. All of which made him a good person to discuss ideas and methods with. No matter what the clouds contained, he had someone capable and trusted by his side.

“Well, aren’t we here observing electrical storms? Could there be a connection?” Cas said, squinting his eyes and looking over the clouds raging over the treelines. “Perhaps we should see what is in the center of the storm. It may give us more insight on what we are up against.”

He had thought too soon. Cas was a great strategic resource, that was a given. But his current plan made Sam’s stomach churn. He wasn’t opposed to facing the danger if confronted, but charging into the eye of the storm was the best way to discover that Freddy Krueger was real and he was going to be killed in any manner of pun-related tragedies. But then again, angel trumps ghost. And if finding out what was going on here helped him to stop having these dreams in the future, a little risk-taking was worth going back to only having work-related nightmares on the occasion.

“I don’t like it. But you may have a point. And you won’t let me get offed in my own head, right? I’ve seen it happen and I’d rather not go down that route.” Sam said, grimacing as he remembered his misadventures with African dream root and being on the business end of a baseball bat. The bruises had transferred over to the waking world and had been a sore reminder for days afterward.

“Of course I won’t Sam. I feel that the point of my intervention is proof enough that I am here to prevent such disasters.” Cas answered, cocking an eyebrow at Sam before striding towards the storm. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his trench, as if he were taking a walk through the park instead of facing a potential adversary. Sam would call it blind confidence, but he had seen how fast the angel could draw his blade and take care of a threat. It was like watching a cat lash out when threatened or a snake striking to kill its prey. Angels were predators, and no matter how close he and Dean got to Castiel, that truth was one that Sam still couldn’t find himself able to shake. They had been lucky enough to get close enough to Castiel to domesticate him in a way.

They walked side-by-side, stopping only when the ground would groan and crack. Sam wished they had some sort of predictability. Some quakes would barely shift the dust, while overs left jagged tears in the ground that ranged from a few inches to a few feet across. They never came in constant time intervals, coming and going without warning or precursor to when the next would come around. The upside was they were on alert the entire time. Nothing within their range of sight had gone unseen. This allowed Sam to realize something he had been too distracted in his previous dreams to ponder over. There were no signs of life. No birds’ nests, no ant hills... not even animal hair or byproducts took up an inch of the land they were covering. Even in his dreams of past hunts, there were little details of things he had seen or observed. Nothing was ever this lifeless.

“Sam.”

Cas’s voice cut through the unsettling silence, pulling Sam’s attention away from his reflections. The angel’s arm shot out, preventing him from taking another step further. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the perimeter, no doubt seeing a range beyond his own line of sight. He felt Cas tense, pushing Sam back a few steps as his angel blade fell from his sleeve.

“Cas, what’s-”

“Quiet. There is something here. Something with a strong presence. I’m surprised I didn’t feel it until now.” Cas whispered, falling into a defensive position, his stance wide and knees bending slightly. Sam followed suit, wishing more than anything that he had a proper weapon on hand. What good was a home stadium advantage if he couldn’t even properly defend himself? Shouldn’t he have some control over his dreamscape due to knowing it was a dream? There were too many inconsistencies to even ponder over in the face of whatever was inside his head. Unless in some way this really was some kind of vision. He never really had much control over those. There had to be some kind of outside force at play, and they just walked straight to it.

“I am thinking this may not have been the best plan. Now would be an opportune moment to wake up Sam, ” Cas stated, giving him a calculated look. Sam could see a figure begin to move towards them, looking human-esque in the distance. He didn’t really want to stick around to see more if the thing’s energy was causing Cas’s angelic radar to light up. Neither of them were shy to danger, so if Cas was saying they should bail, then Sam would follow his lead. Charging into the unknown was one thing. Charging into the unknown that now had a concerning level of power was another.

“I’m working on it,” Sam answered, keeping his eyes locked on the figure, a man. He could now make out the details. He was blonde, tall… and looked very pissed off. He tried to will himself awake, but couldn’t pull himself out of a defensive mindset. His body was ready for an attack, so relaxing to the point he could focus on waking up seemed dangerously impossible.

“Sam! Sam, listen to me. You have to wake up. Now Sam, now!” Cas yelled, sounding more urgent than before. He stepped into Sam’s line of sight, cutting off his focus on the stranger. Cas faced him, putting a hand on his arm and Sam felt his gaze be drawn to Cas’s eyes. They were blown wide with wary energy, looking up at him with an intensity that burned his nerves until they felt numb. He felt his shoulders fall forwards and his stance relax the longer he was trapped under Cas’s gaze. The world around him didn’t feel like it existed, dangers and all. And once it was out of his mind, nothing was left to tie him to his slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and support! I've been trying to do more reading on Norse Mythology to help shape future events. The Norse were fantastically weird with their stories.


	3. Sun's Day (Part 3)

Cas watched Sam jolt awake, finding himself moving the hair away from the hunter’s face without putting too much thought into the action. He just needed a better look at the hunter’s face. He had been leaning heavily against Cas’s shoulder from the moment he had fallen asleep, and that was where he remained as he recovered from his dream. Groggy eyes traveled slowly to meet his own, only to widen and dart away as bright awareness flashed in the dappled amber depths. Sam sat up, stretching in a long, exaggerated motion before clearing his throat and turning away from Castiel. After a few moments he looked back at Cas, who had yet to move since stepping out of Sam’s mind. 

“I don’t think we are dealing with demons,” Cas said in a flat tone, pushing out of his chair and shutting the laptop. 

“Of course you aren’t dealing with demons, you fucking morons.”

Cas turned sharply, frowning at the demon that now stood a few feet away. He wondered how long Crowley had been there. His grace was still writhing in discomfort after the near-encounter with the powerful being in Sam’s head, slowly settling down as time went on. No wonder he hadn’t felt the other’s presence until it was announced. It was still annoying. Even the slightest of a warning was nice when dealing with the current King of Hell.

“That would have been good information to know before we traveled halfway across the country to check out these storms,” Sam grumbled. Cas could hear the layering of classic Winchester sarcasm with Sam’s own flavor of annoyance. Typically that annoyance was saved for Dean, but Cas would agree that Crowley was a deserving party. 

“Well, you could have just asked. But I assume that after how many years of us having manageable business dealings, you couldn’t trust me to give you a straight answer?” Crowley answered, rolling his eyes and shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I would have loved to chat as well. You see, there has been some unrest in certain sects of Hell and I have reasons to believe that you chucklebrains might have something to do with it. I figured that if anybody had their fingers in the pie, it would be a Winchester.” 

“Who’s putting fingers in who’s pie now? Don’t tell me someone went full on Jim Levenstein. Because shots may be fired.” Dean said, shutting the motel door behind him and giving a wry look at the other occupants in the room. “Can I ask what is going on here?”

“It’s not demons.” Sam sighed, leaning further back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap. Cas could tell that he was still tired, seeing the shadows under Sam’s eyes appear to be darker than before. He was determined to help Sam get a proper night’s sleep once this was all over. The hunter all but deserved it. 

“You had to summon Crowley to find that out? What makes you think he would tell the truth if he had something going on here?” Dean sighed, his words carrying the heavy weight of exasperation. He settled at the foot of his bed, pulling one foot onto his other knee and undoing the laces of his boot.

“Standing right here.” Crowley mused, rocking up onto his toes and stretching, appearing to be bored with the situation. 

“It isn’t demons. There is a different party at play here. This is an energy that I have not felt in a great while. The last time I came across it was when I saw Gabriel last. At the time I could not fully recognize him because of his energy. It was masked by something old and powerful. I could not tell you what it is exactly, but I can for certain say it is not demonic.” Cas spoke up, crossing his arms and glancing at Sam. He still felt odd about what had just transpired in the hunter’s dreams. While they had learned much, there were twice as many questions to deal with now. 

“Well, that’s fantastic. So we know there is a hunt because Cas’s radar is picking something up… but it isn’t demons. I was hoping this hunt would be simple and we could all run down to Vegas, but nothing is ever easy.” Dean grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Which leaves us at square one. What’s our move?” 

“We go after the storms. Find out what it is.”

Cas felt a jolt of uncertainty and unrest run through his form at Sam’s words. He turned his back on Crowley and Dean, squaring his shoulders as he looked down at Sam sprawled out in his chair. “Sam, are you sure that is wise? We just attempted that in your dream and weren’t prepared for what we discovered. And you want to go after it instead of researching possibilities?” he asked, frowning.

“Hold up, what’s this about going in Sammy’s head? What exactly went down when I was gone, and why wasn’t I called?” Dean cut in, rising from the bed in an instant. 

“Dean, it was nothing. I was just having some dreams that I didn’t think were a big deal before we even took this case. But we did see something, a man… tall, long hair, and a large build. But that isn’t the point. The point is that he already knows we are here, and it’s better to go to him than have him come to us. I would rather be prepared when I see him again. And while it could be risky, so far he hasn’t hurt anyone. Nobody in town has died, and I’ve never really been hurt in my dreams. Maybe he just wants to talk.” 

“Sam, when does anything ever want to just talk. I don’t like that something’s getting into your head again either. Last time it was Lucifer, and that ended up with you in the cage, and Lucifer in Cas. I’d rather avoid having something like that happen again. As you said, nobody has gotten hurt. There is no reason to rush into this. I normally hate the long game, and you know that. So I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it would be a shitty idea to go in guns blazing.” Dean replied, slowly settling back down onto the bed after he had calmed, working his other boot off. 

Cas could still see that Dean was tense, which was not too much of a surprise. He knew that Dean’s concerns were driven by past mistakes and pulled from a lifetime of wanting to keep him safe. And he found himself agreeing with the elder brother’s views on this. After being in Sam’s head and feeling the mystery man’s energy, he felt the need to find out what was going on without risking the brothers in a face-to-face confrontation. “So, what else could be tied to the storms?”

“My money is on an elemental. Or a demigod. Pagans always have someone that can mess with the weather. Especially rain or storms, gods that bring a plentiful harvest. I’d say something Egyptian considering we are in the middle of a bloody desert.” Crowley chimed in with a shrug. “And we all know that they can be real pains in the ass. Trust me, try getting a soul that went to the wrong afterlife.” 

“You think we are dealing with a fucker with a bird head? That is something I’d love to see.” Dean scoffed, cocking an amused eyebrow as he looked up at Crowley. 

“Not exactly. Most of my kind assume the visage of a man or woman. But that matter is not of importance.”

Cas let his angel blade slide from his sleeve the moment he felt the crackling energy of an entity trying to appear in the room, biting his lip as he recognized the wavelength from Sam’s dream. Before he could get a word out, he was quickly thrown across the room, barreling into Sam and taking the hunter to the floor. A crash and a yell from across the room let him know that Dean had shared a similar fate, and a glance over his shoulder revealed that Crowley had taken the newcomer’s entrance to signal his exit. 

Heavy footsteps began to cut through the ringing in his ears, growing closer to his location. He rolled off of Sam and searched the ground with his gaze, trying to catch sight of his blade. A flash of silver caught his eye and he reached for it, stopping as the stranger’s foot came to rest on its handle. Cas glared up at the man, taking in his appearance. He had long pleated blonde hair, paired with a flowing beard that reached a few inches past his shoulders. The man’s gaze pinned him to the floor, with piercing blue eyes that radiated power and rage. Cas’s lit up blue in response, a reaction that didn’t seem to bother the entity. It was swiftly awarded with a kick to the face, sending the angel to the ground once more. 

His vision wavered back a few moments later, and the hazy image of Sam pushing himself into a sitting position with his back pressed against the wall became clear. The man had stopped in front of the younger Winchester, slowly falling into a crouch as he looked Sam over. From Cas’s position, his expression was hard to read, but his next words were clear. 

“Hello, Sam Winchester. I am Thor Odinson, and you have something that belongs to me. Where is my hammer? Where is Mjolnir?” he said in a calm, hair-raising voice. It rumbled with a hidden power that promised pain and bloodshed if countered. 

“What the hell are you raving about? We never took the damn thing you asshole!” Dean growled, stumbling closer. He was limping, eyes seething with anger and distrust. Cas stood, ignoring the flow of blood staining his lips and chin, using his foot to roll his blade away from where it had been kicked: under the table. He bent, keeping his eyes glued on Thor, not wanting to break contact and miss any signs that the god intended to harm Sam.

“Quiet. I was not speaking with you. I am speaking with the worthy one. Sam Winchester is the only one I need to speak with. I do not need the squabbling of a heaven’s guard dog or of lesser men invading my hearing at this moment. I am too busy to be troubled by such trivial players.” Thor said, not turning away from Sam as he spoke. Cas could see past the god’s back, seeing the worried confusion reflecting in Sam’s eyes. 

“Why do you think I have your hammer? I do admit I used it once, but I never took it afterward. Why are you looking for it after all this time? That was years ago. How do you even know that we came into contact with it? I’m pretty sure that the seller wasn’t really apart of your pantheon.” Sam questioned, sliding further up the wall as he straightened his back. Cas could see the Winchester try to work out all the details in his mind, catching the soft tapping of Sam’s fingers against the floor.

“You are the last that tapped into Mjolnir’s true power. It is tied to me, and I am aware of all that become worthy to wield it at its true capacity. I didn’t need to track that information down until now. I have been trying to communicate with you for an extended period of time, but you were in a place that I could not access using the Bifrost.” Thor explained, remaining still as Sam tried to back further against the wall. At least Cas could take comfort knowing the bunker was pagan god proof, but that didn’t help when they were states away from its safety. 

“Wait, what are you talking ‘worthy’. That’s only a comic thing. And I’m pretty fucking sure Sam isn’t in line to be an Avenger. The Earth’s Mightiest Heroes don’t really operate around our line of work,” Dean cut in, working his way around Thor to offer Sam a hand. He helped his brother to his feet, keeping his eyes on the stationary god. Cas worked his way to Sam’s other side, watching as Thor moved. The god’s actions were slow and deliberate, making even the simple act of standing seem regal and otherworldly. 

“That is true. But with the high frequency that weapons created for the Aesir royal family are stolen, Odin took a page from the creative works of Midgard. He figured that putting a safeguard on my weapons would potentially dissuade thieves. He was wrong. Making something unusable somehow heightens the appeal of owning an object.” Thor sighed, crossing his arms and looking away from the trio for the first time since he arrived. “However, it has made tracking them simpler. And having my weapons on my person is important. More now than ever. Do you even have an inkling of an idea what is coming?” Thor continued, glaring back at Sam, his voice trailing off into a growl. 

“No, but I’m sure you are about to tell us,” Cas replied, giving the god a crooked glare, tilting his head to the side, still trying to read whether or not the other was going to attack again. He would rather not be off-guard and have a repeat performance of being kicked in the face. 

“I thought I told you to keep your pretentious mouth shut. You angels are the exact reason this is happening in the first place. This isn’t your place to talk.” Thor snapped, falling back into an aggressive stance. He looked livid, and Cas couldn’t help but thank his absentee father that the brash deity didn’t have his weapon of choice. While he had a strong chance of surviving a hit from Mjolnir, it was also something he could live without experiencing. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Whatever went down in that hotel had nothing to do with Cas. He wasn’t even there. Let’s not jump down each other’s throats quite yet. We know that Lucifer and Michael almost started the apocalypse, but they didn’t. We stopped them, so why are you-”

“Baldr.” Sam cut in, looking over at Dean as he interrupted his brother. 

“Come again?” Dean replied, giving Sam an exasperated look. Cas could read that he was frustrated with the situation. Another seemingly simple hunt complicated by unforeseen circumstances. Though by now shouldn’t they expect things like this to pull them off the tracks of whatever they should be focusing on? 

“Baldr was there that night. Lucifer must have killed him. Am I right?” Sam continued, looking at Thor, looking as if he was holding in a breath. His features were hard to read, appearing cold and defensive. 

“You are correct. Baldr is dead. As is my father. Both were slain in cold blood by Lucifer. While this is not how it was foretold, the events leading up to Ragnarok are underway. I am to die, but I will do so in a glorious manner. There has been no sign of Megingjarðar unfortunately, but even without it, I will still find a way to wield Mjolnir. I must if I am to defeat the sea serpent Jormungand.” Thor said in a tight tone, as if the immense pressure of what he was foretold to do was physically squeezing at his vocal cords.

“If you are telling me we are dealing with another goddamn apocalypse I’m going to lose my mind.” Dean groaned, running a hand through his hair as a string of profanities passed through his lips. Cas stayed silent, but could have done the same. He would actually rather enjoy doing the same. It seemed that Lucifer was the root of all their problems right now, nephilim or otherwise. This was a more immediate danger than Kelly giving birth, so in a way this was a blessing in disguise. A awful, ugly blessing coated in layers of complications and absurdities.

“Dean, please.” Sam pleaded, his eyes flicking towards his brother for a brief glare before landing back on the armored god. “I hate to tell you Thor, but I have not seen your hammer for years. And weren’t Baldr and Odin killed nearly a decade ago? Why is this only happening now?” he asked, leaning back against the wall. He looked rightfully overwhelmed by this developing situation, so Cas stepped closer to the youngest hunter, pressing shoulder-to-shoulder to him in an effort to take on some of the invisible weight. 

“Baldr’s death is only the signal that begins the process towards the end of this age. Loki was originally supposed to kill him, so I imagine that the signs have been altered as well. The next stage was meant to be three simultaneous winters without summer to cut in between the ages of ice and death, but your planet has warmed significantly. I am certain that this sign went unnoticed in most areas of the world. But in the lands of where our worshipers originated, these years have been cold and unrelenting. Another sign was meant to be an increase in wars between man. But, again… this must have gone unnoticed in the current state of your worldly affairs.” Thor answered, drumming his fingers over his lower arms as he kept them crossed. “I am not surprised. In recent ages, your kind will find an explanation for anything they deem unusual. It has transformed any communications we attempt into trivial, ineffective wastes of time. Time we do not have thanks to the angels that interfered with our fates.” he spat, giving Castiel another glare, one more malevolent than before. 

“I am sorry for your loss.” Cas said simply in an attempt to diffuse the tension, “it must be difficult to lose the tools you need to fight your war and contemplate the end of the world after having to let go of loved ones. We have also dealt with Lucifer, and-” 

He felt the rest of his sentence be pressed out of his chest as he was slammed into the wall, looking into Thor’s eyes, seeing the bloodlust and fury reflected in the pale blues of his irises. “Don’t presume you understand my position or the grief that I must carry much sooner than was promised to me by the fates. What do you know of loss? Of sacrifice in the name of protecting this world? We did try to stop this. Hermod descended Yggdrasil, he tried to make this right. Don’t you dare-”

Sam pulled Cas away from Thor, managing to unwedge himself from between the now cracked drywall and the pissed off god. “If what you are saying is true, we don’t have time for this!” he snapped, stepping between Thor and Cas, blocking the god from Castiel’s sight. He was sure Sam was trying to calm the god down and to get him to work with them. It made sense. If Ragnarok was coming sooner than later, it would be good to have the extra power on hand as well as a source of primary information. It would cut down on the time they would have to dedicate on research and give them a head start on actually solving this problem. 

“I warned him that this was not his place to speak,” Thor said in a gruff tone, managing to get a peek of Castiel over Sam’s shoulder as he leered at the angel. 

“Yes, but we are all on the same side here. I know you aren’t a fan of angels, but Cas is a friend and an asset. He helped us defeat Lucifer and stop the Christian apocalypse. We can help you do the same with yours. You are already down a few gods, what do you have to lose if you let us help you out? We will find your hammer, and a way to stop this. Prophecies are not set in stone, I’m sure we can work out a way to end this without bloodshed. And if I’m really… worthy like you said, maybe Odin’s magic connected us so we can help you.” Sam reasoned, putting his hands up and looking straight into Thor’s face. 

Thor frowned, taking a few moments to contemplate Sam’s offer. Cas could see the skepticism furrowed in the god’s brow, twitching in the corner of his mouth. But his eyes were curious, gleaming with an interested energy. “I’ll have to discuss this with my fellow Aesir. Find my hammer, and we may have a more serious discussion about your plans. Such a gesture will gain you credibility in the eyes of Asgard. But work swiftly. We must act before the sun and moon are devoured and we have no light to guide us along the path of victory.” He reasoned, turning his back on the trio and walking towards the motel door. 

“Wait? What the hell do you mean by the sun and moon being devoured?” Dean asked in a disbelieving tone, starting after Thor, but only making it partway to the exit before a flash of multicolored light passed through the thin cotton drapes covering the window facing the parking lot. “Well, goddamn. That was… not what I was expecting when coming to Nevada.” Dean sighed, turning back to Sam and Cas and rubbing a hand over his face. “How the hell do you get European melodramatic god problems in the middle of the desert? What the hell are we going to do with this Sam?” he continued, giving his brother a searching look. 

“I actually have no clue. I just wanted to get him out of here so we could go over this alone and figure out what we actually can do. Besides, I didn’t like the fact he had beef with Cas while we had nothing around that could gank him if things turned ugly.” Sam replied, making his way back over to his overturned chair, pulling it back upright and settling himself down in it. 

“You two would probably form a better plan after some rest. You both have been awake since the early morning.” Cas coughed, smoothing his trenchcoat back down and straightening his tie. While he was relieved that they had uncovered the source of Sam’s dreams and could understand why there had been storms in the area, watching the brothers be dragged into another apocalypse was not something he would stand for. 

“No Cas, we’ve got to figure this out. I don’t really want a thunder god on our ass. Let’s just sit down and figure this out.” Dean said, walking back to stand next to Sam and the angel. Without much hesitance, Cas reached up and touched the both of them on their foreheads, using his grace to nullify the synapses in their brains that were keeping them awake. 

He caught the two of them before they could fall to the ground, depositing Dean on one bed and Sam on the other, arranging them into a comfortable position. The last thing he needed in the morning on top of being chewed out for putting them to sleep was comments about stiff muscles or sore necks. 

Once he finished he looked down at his work, feeling a bit of guilt for doing this without permission. But they wouldn’t listen to him before when he brought up that sleep would help them come up with better solutions in the morning. And now with higher stakes, the Winchesters had to be fully prepared for what came next. His gaze lingered on Sam’s face, happy to see that the other was unburdened with the weight of dreams. He had promised himself the younger Winchester would get a decent night’s sleep. It was sooner than he had anticipated, but having him look peaceful and knowing he’d wake up well rested was well worth skipping a few steps ahead in his plans. 

Cas turned, grabbing the back of one overturned chair and righting it. He sat it a few feet away from the foot of each bed, settling against the backing with a sigh. No more than twenty footsteps away. Not with this new danger lingering above them. He wouldn’t be that careless again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know how you feel in the comments. I'm really excited to get into the action!


End file.
